


Forgiveness

by The_Eclectic_Bookworm



Series: the braveryverse [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 10:25:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7614499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Eclectic_Bookworm/pseuds/The_Eclectic_Bookworm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jenny stared. If she’d been holding anything at all, she might have dropped it in shock. Here she’d been looking for an Orb of Thesulah online, hitting up all the shops her uncle had mentioned might be useful in this situation, doing research on how she might be able to make one if it came to that, and Rupert, her absent-minded librarian, had been using it as a paperweight.</p><p>(An alternate version of Passion. Considerably happier.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgiveness

She’d rehearsed the speech about seven times in the car on the way over. Somewhere along the line, it had shifted from “Rupert, I know you’re mad at me” to a “Rupert, I know you can’t possibly even look at me, because apparently that’s too much to ask” to muttering furious profanities under her breath. She found it strangely calming to be angry, because anger distracted her from the fact that she had no right to feel wronged in this scenario.

But she was in love with him. Of course, she sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him that today, because she didn’t want the first time she told a guy she loved him to seem like it came from a place of trying to win him back. She was going to tell him significantly later. Maybe when Angel had his soul back, seeing as by then she might have earned his trust again.

Jenny hesitated at the library doors. She’d made sure to get here early so as not to run into Buffy—she didn’t feel like making this harder than it needed to be. Now, though, faced with the prospect of actually seeing Rupert with few obstacles in her way, the fury that came from isolation had been replaced with a fluttery worry in her chest. It wasn’t just about her having to face him, though; had he been staying up too late researching? Did he have someone concerned for him? Did he have any friends, any peers, anyone he could talk to?

She was really in love with him. This was terrifying. Jenny felt a strong desire to run away, back to the safety and simplicity of her classroom, where all she had to worry about was an occasional glare from Xander and a rare run-in with Buffy. She knew she was deliberately seeking him out at this point, and giving up was always an option.

Except she missed him. Desperately. And she was so worried about him that it made her heart hurt, a level of concern that she hadn’t even known she was able to feel before him. Jenny steeled herself and entered the library.

“Rupert?” she called tentatively. Was he even here? Maybe she’d shown up a little _too_ early. On the other hand, though, it wasn’t like he was exactly going to come running if he heard her voice. Probably the opposite, actually. “Can I talk to you?” She headed over to his office, tentatively knocking on the closed door.

It swung open on the second knock.

He wasn’t in the office. Jenny knew she shouldn’t snoop, especially after all that had happened, but her eyes did an involuntary sweep of the room. She liked to think that she knew Rupert well enough to tell from his office how he was feeling as of late. It was untidier than usual, books stacked on top of his desk, some open, one particularly large book held open with a—

Jenny stared. If she’d been holding anything at all, she might have dropped it in shock. Here she’d been looking for an Orb of Thesulah online, hitting up all the shops her uncle had mentioned might be useful in this situation, doing research on how she might be able to make one if it came to that, and Rupert, her absent-minded librarian, had been using it as a paperweight.

A _paperweight._

God, she loved him.

Jenny smiled a little wryly. Her research had been going along quite well, minus the snag of not actually having an Orb of Thesulah, but this posed a new problem. Had she been in Rupert’s good books, she could have asked for the Orb, and he would have most certainly given it to her with only minor hesitation. But now? Even if she could get him to talk to her, she wasn’t sure if he’d willingly hand over his paperweight without thoroughly looking into whether or not it had any sort of supernatural characteristics.

Besides which, if she asked him for it and he refused, she’d be the first suspect in the event that it went missing. There was really only one option if she wanted to be sure of getting the Orb without attracting attention. If she got caught, however, she’d have stolen from him on top of lying to him.

But if she didn’t…

If she took the Orb, right here, right now, with full intention of giving it back, and if the restoration worked, Angel would have his soul, Buffy would have her boyfriend, her family would be pleased that she’d fixed the mistake she’d made, and Rupert would see how hard she’d tried and perhaps begin to trust her again. She fully understood that she might have singlehandedly wrecked one of the best relationships she’d ever been in, but having Rupert in her life in _any_ capacity, platonic or otherwise, would be enough for her.

“Better to ask forgiveness than permission,” said Jenny quietly to herself, and carefully took the Orb from the middle of the book, tucking it into her purse. She found a scrap of paper and stuck it into the middle of the book, to ensure that Rupert wouldn’t lose his place in the event that the pages blew around.

* * *

 

Some fact-checking, thanks to both a few online message boards and some old books she’d managed to get from the school library (technically part of Rupert’s personal collection, but they were filed with the school library books and thus fair game), proved that Jenny’s instincts had been right—it was indeed an Orb of Thesulah that Rupert had been using as a paperweight. She’d been fairly certain, but she’d double-checked even so; every part of this soul-restoration business was a delicate operation.

She suddenly remembered that she’d been planning to go and confront Rupert about his refusal to interact with her, but the thought of coming up to him and speaking to him while hiding yet another secret made her stomach turn.

 _Just this last secret, though,_ she thought in an attempt at self-reassurance. Once she fixed this, there would be absolutely nothing between them. Plus, it wasn’t like they’d been talking all that much anyway.

Jenny missed him.

She allowed herself five minutes of remembering the way his eyes would soften when he was looking at something he adored (books, music, her a few weeks ago) and the way he’d grin when he’d just said something particularly clever (eyes crinkling at the corners, ridiculously cute and startlingly handsome all in one), and the way he’d rest his forehead against hers after kissing her (hands tangled in her hair or cupping her face or resting at the small of her back, sending shivers through her), and—

And then Jenny had to physically shake her head to bring herself back to earth. She needed to research. She needed to get back to writing that program. She needed another cup of coffee, because she’d stayed up too late last night again. A little more work, and this could be done. This _would_ be done, now that she had everything she needed.

* * *

 

Giles would later be embarrassed to admit that he didn’t actually notice when Jenny stopped trying and started actively avoiding him. Or, truthfully, he _did,_ but it only halfway occurred to him on the third day and then he resolutely put it out of his mind. Most of what was going on in his head was Determinedly Not Thinking About Jenny Calendar.

A change from a few weeks ago, certainly, when so many of his thoughts had been about Jenny. What she’d think of this book or that dessert, where they should go for their next date, whether he should grab her some coffee from the staff lounge seeing as she was always a bit sleepy on Mondays.

But now the situation had changed, quite a lot, and Giles couldn’t afford to think about Jenny. Thinking about Jenny meant thinking about her betrayal, her omissions, how much pain Buffy was in because of her inaction. Thinking about Jenny was not an option, and considering that Jenny might be avoiding him was therefore out of the question.

And then it became quite noticeable during a Wednesday staff meeting when he got up to get some tea at the same time that Jenny tried to snag a pastry.

“Oh,” he said. His stomach twisted at the sight of the dark circles under her eyes. _She looks exhausted,_ he thought worriedly, and then reluctantly pushed that thought aside; it wouldn’t do to worry about her. “Sorry,” he added reflexively, stepping aside.

He was expecting her to smile hopefully and respond with some attempt to make conversation, like she’d been doing for the past few weeks. But Jenny took the pastry and hurried past him without once looking up into his eyes.

Giles felt almost startled by how hurt he was. This was, after all, what he’d wanted. A clean break. There was no way that they could be together in the near future, seeing as Buffy being inevitably forced to stake her now-soulless boyfriend wasn’t likely to make her look kindly upon Jenny. Regardless of what Jenny had known, or how much of this was directly her fault, Buffy came first.

But Giles couldn’t help watching Jenny as she sat down, taking a bite of the muffin she’d grabbed. Her usually-impeccable hair was twisted into a slightly disheveled bun, and she wasn’t looking at anyone in the staff room or attempting to make conversation. None of this was like her.

He’d hurt her.

Again.

Giles hurried out of the staff room under the pretense of getting a drink of water (possibly one of the most inane excuses he’d ever used, especially considering that he was still holding a paper cup full of the staff room’s poor excuse for tea) and leaned heavily against the wall outside. He felt vaguely sick. He’d made his decision, and he _knew_ it was the only one possible under the circumstances, but he still couldn’t stand the thought that he’d hurt Jenny so completely that she wouldn’t even talk to him. Not only that, but that this wasn’t the first time this had happened.

Part of him wanted her to leave this town and find some semblance of happiness elsewhere, but another part of him was in knots at even the thought of her leaving. Giles pushed his glasses up his nose and strode back into the staff room, eyes looking straight ahead, trying to at least maintain his outward composure.

Jenny left the meeting early, still walking with purpose in her step even when it was clear she was exhausted from…something. Giles felt a flicker of pride mingled with worry and tried his best to pay attention to whatever Snyder was rambling on about. It didn’t work.

* * *

 

Rupert was continuing to ignore her, save for one quick collision in a staff meeting, but it wasn’t really doing wonders for Jenny’s guilt. She wanted very badly to fix everything so that she could return the Orb, even though he didn’t seem to notice it was missing.

Besides, stealing the Orb from Rupert instead of buying one of her own had led to another major drawback. Since Jenny couldn’t bring it to school (seeing as Rupert or one of the Scoobies might recognize it and start asking some unwanted questions), she was constantly worrying over what might happen if someone stole it, or a burglar broke into her house and accidentally shattered it. Or, and this was the option that she found herself entertaining more than she would like, Angelus found a way to invite himself into her house just for the sake of destroying the Orb. She couldn’t imagine him being very happy over the prospect of regaining a soul he now loathed. Granted, they were very, very unlikely prospects, but Jenny was still unreasonably stressed and guilty and sleep-deprived.

All of these unpleasant hypothetical possibilities were making it difficult for her to concentrate on working on the program when she was at school, especially at night, when she was extremely nervous as it was. And on top of all _that,_ Jenny kept on looking up every five minutes to see if a vampire had come into her classroom, half because it was a very real possibility and half because she was just so anxious that everything seemed frightening as of late.

One night, she fell asleep at her desk and woke up when the sun was shining through her classroom windows. It took her a good ten minutes to calm herself down after realizing that she’d fallen asleep, at _night,_ in a _public building._

She couldn’t be this lucky every single time she stayed late at school. Sooner or later, something had to give, and she was living in horrible anticipation of that moment. Jenny pulled herself up to a sitting position, tied her hair back to hide the fact that it was something of a mess, and went to get some coffee from the staff room so that she wouldn’t be too much of a disaster during her first class of the day.

* * *

 

That first class passed in a blur. Jenny had been planning to call Willow over so that she’d have someone to cover for her when she took the day off tomorrow, but now that she had the Orb she’d been looking for, a day off wasn’t needed. She did, however, call Willow over to see if she’d be interested in covering for her in general, mostly just because she was constantly worried that her staying late at school would eventually get her killed. She didn’t want to think about Willow taking over her class under those circumstances, but it was important to make preparations for every possibility.

And then Rupert showed up at her classroom door, somber and stony-faced, accompanied by Buffy, and Jenny’s stomach turned over. Did they know she’d taken the orb? Had they figured it out? God, for someone who the Scoobies had labeled a liar and a spy, Jenny was _so_ bad at being completely dishonest, even though she hid it well. Guilt ate at her.

“Buffy,” she managed. She tried to smile, but she was still strung-out and exhausted and now incredibly nervous. “Rupert,” she added.

Buffy ignored her, and Jenny felt at least some of the tension leave her. If Buffy knew she had stolen from Giles, she’d be taking full advantage of the opportunity to yell at Jenny. Or throw her against the desk. Jenny still had bruises.

“Willow,” said Buffy coolly. “I thought I might take in a class. Figured I could use someone who knows where they are.”

Willow hurried past Jenny, mumbling some sort of annoyed apology for talking to her that Jenny was too relieved to catch. They were leaving. They were leaving. She had a free period to work on the program and—

and Rupert was stepping into the classroom, eyes cast down.

Jenny tried to think of something to say, but all she could manage to come up with was a terse, “Is there something you need?”

Rupert looked somewhat startled at her tone. Then, hesitantly, he asked, “Are you all right?”

Jenny almost laughed. “No,” she said frankly. “Rupert, what do you need from me?”

“Ms. Calendar—” There was a catch in his voice.

She pressed her lips together and thought of the Orb, tucked away in her house. She couldn’t be warm and apologetic with him when she was still hiding things from him even now; it was better for both of them if she kept him at a distance. “What,” she said, and she hated the small wobble in her voice, “do you need from me?”

Rupert looked down at his shoes, then up at her again with a horribly guilty expression, as though he felt his motives for coming to see her shouldn’t have just been him wanting something from her. With clear reluctance in his voice, he replied, “S-since Angel lost his soul, he's regained his sense of whimsy.”

“And?” Jenny prompted.

“He's been in Buffy's bedroom. I need to drum up a spell to, uh, keep him out of the house.” Rupert looked up at her again. “Jenny,” he said quietly. Jenny’s heart caught; it had been weeks since she’d heard him say her first name. “Do know that you can tell me if there’s—any sort of danger you think you might be in, or—”

“There isn’t,” said Jenny, cutting him off and hurrying over to rummage in her desk. She’d intended to give him the book as a gift. “I don’t think you have this one,” she informed him, handing it over to him without looking at him.

“Thank you,” said Rupert, and she felt him take the book from her. Their fingers brushed. She looked up at him, actually meeting his eyes for the first time in a while.

 _I love you,_ she thought.

“I hope this helps,” she murmured.

“I do too,” said Rupert, equally quietly.

There was no anger or coolness in his eyes, just a tired sadness, and it upset her more than she’d been expecting. She’d _hurt_ him. Again.

All she ever seemed to do was hurt him.

He reached out. Whether it was to touch her or not she didn’t know, and she didn’t find out, because she swiveled on her heel and turned back to her computer with a lump in her throat. “Please, Rupert, just don’t,” she said, and this time her voice was noticeably shaking. She _couldn’t._

There was silence in the room, and then he turned and left.

* * *

 

Giles was more bothered by his encounter with Jenny than he’d expected for be, and continued to mull over it well into the next day. He could tell that something was very wrong, but he knew that she wasn’t going to tell him _what,_ and frankly, she had no reason to. At best, he’d been cool with her over the last few weeks; at worst, he’d downright ignored her. Were their positions reversed, he certainly wouldn’t feel comfortable telling Jenny if something was amiss.

The look in her eyes when she had met his gaze was still sticking with him—a strange mixture of guilt, exhaustion, and what he didn’t dare to label as love. Something close to that, perhaps. He’d wanted, desperately, to kiss her, if only to take all of her guilt and tiredness away. When looking at her, it was nearly impossible to remember that she was the one in the wrong.

This was most likely why he’d been avoiding looking at her for so long.

“You all right?” Buffy asked quietly, pausing by his office door on her way out of the library. She was heading over to Willow’s to perform the deinvitation ritual, and had stopped by to check in with Giles about vampires and patrolling, but had ended up just hanging around the library and eating cookies. He’d figured that, especially with all of the events going on in her life, she deserved a day where he wasn’t grilling her about vampires.  

Giles was reminded of Jenny’s terse response to that same question. He smiled tiredly at Buffy in response. “Get some rest,” he said, and for the first time in a while, he didn’t check the affection in his tone when he spoke. She was far beyond his Slayer now, and these events had firmly cemented this.

Buffy nodded, but didn’t smile, although her eyes softened. “You too,” she said. “You deserve it.”  

When she’d exited the library and he was sure she couldn’t hear him, Giles laughed tiredly. He didn’t feel much like he deserved anything, especially not when he remembered the way Jenny had turned away from him. Like she couldn’t look at him for too long because it hurt her too much.

He glanced out the window. Nearly sunset. _I’d best leave school before the sun goes down_ , he thought absently, but there was research to be done, and he really did need to look into some of those newer volumes that he’d sent for from London. He was doing his best to keep the Angelus situation on the down-low from the Council, however; lord knows _what_ they would say if they’d found out that Buffy had been romantically involved with a vampire, soulless or not.

But he was exhausted by the constant research he’d been doing, and by how emotionally wrung-out he was, and by how worried about Jenny he had suddenly become. It wasn’t like her to give up so easily. Even under the influence of a powerful love spell, she’d _still_ been making efforts to win him back, at least initially.

He would stop by her classroom when he was leaving. Perhaps, if she was working late, he might attempt to talk to her and get a bit more information on whatever was bothering her. At the very least, he’d manage to catch a glimpse of her—however painful that might be, there was always something about seeing her that made him feel a bit better.

Giles really wasn’t doing his best work that night, and put in a good few hours of halfhearted research before he finally gave up and decided to leave. There really wasn’t much new information he’d found, save for another handful of atrocities Angelus had committed back in his glory days, and all _that_ did was make him even more worried.

Picking up his briefcase, he hurried out of the library. The light was off in Jenny’s classroom, but the door was open. He walked up to the open door, hesitating in the doorway.

Jenny was working, typing away at something that looked to be in some sort of foreign language. She looked more alert and focused than he’d expected her to be at this time of night, but he suspected it might have to do with what looked like a half-empty cup of coffee sitting next to her on her desk. Tentatively, he took a step forward into the classroom.

“Hello,” he said quietly.

Jenny swiveled in her chair, eyes wide, clicking a few buttons as she turned to look at him. The computer screen changed. “Hi,” she replied, sounding quite on edge. “Look, now isn’t really the best time.”

“You’re working late,” Giles said.

“Yeah. I do that sometimes.” Jenny turned away from him, her jaw set, and began to type again. There was a strange guardedness to her, one that didn’t quite seem like it was borne from discomfort or dislike.

 _Guilt,_ he thought. Guilt that he had fostered and encouraged by treating her so coldly.

“Jenny,” he began, not quite sure if he wanted to know the answer, “what are you not telling me?”

Jenny’s fingers froze on the keys. There was a moment of silence, and then she said in a very different tone of voice, “I promise I’ll tell you later, okay? I promise.” She looked up at him, and her eyes were glinting with—not tears, certainly, because Jenny never cried, but—

He stepped forward, setting his briefcase down on her desk. “When might _later_ be?” he asked carefully.

“Tonight.” Jenny seemed to speak without really thinking, because she looked startled at her own words. “Tomorrow. Whenever you can see me. I—I think I might have some news soon. Good news.” And now she didn’t look quite as upset; there was a ghost of her usual hopeful smile on her face. “Can I see you later?”

Giles felt himself genuinely smile at her, both surprised and relieved. “Good news?”

“Pretty good. As news goes.” Jenny looked surprised at Giles’s smile, but then she seemed to remember how to smile back. A real smile, too. He’d forgotten how lovely her smile was.

“Perhaps you should stop by the library tomorrow,” he suggested with more warmth than he’d intended. He couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

“Perhaps I should.” Jenny’s eyes were bright and soft and it was making his heart flutter.

He inclined his head, and was halfway out the door when he heard her blurt out, “Buffy said you missed me.”

Giles turned, startled. “I’m sorry?”

Jenny’s face had gone a little pink. “I mean—” She ducked her head briefly, then looked up again. “Buffy,” she said uncertainly. “I, um, we talked.”

“Oh,” said Giles, surprised. “Well.” He couldn’t come up with an answer for that. The one reason he’d distanced himself from Jenny had been Buffy, and if Buffy was mentioning things like that— “She’s a meddlesome girl,” he said finally.

“I hope she’s doing okay,” said Jenny.

Giles thought of the tired, sad look in Buffy’s eyes, the tense way she carried herself. His heart stopped feeling so light. “She’s not,” he said shortly.

Jenny looked momentarily startled, and then a look of tired resignation replaced the hope in her eyes. Giles felt even worse at that.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I—get home safe, okay?”

“You too,” said Giles, and turned, leaving the computer lab, unsure of whether or not he should label the conversation as a success.

It was quiet outside, still and breezy, the kind of warm spring night he used to enjoy. The last time it had been warm at this time of night, he’d been walking a sleepy Jenny to his car, their fingers entwined as she leaned on him and drowsily contemplated how much research they’d still need to do when they arrived at his house. She’d kissed him before they got into the car, but it hadn’t been the usual sort of hard kiss that stole his breath and made him weak in the knees; it had been a soft brush of her lips over his, sweet and familiar in a way he’d never experienced before.

He’d been so uncomplicatedly in love with her. He wasn’t sure if it was wise to continue to love her, not when her feelings for him had become even more nebulous and hard to understand, but his heart didn’t seem to be paying attention to logic. With luck, her news might shed some light on the situation.

Giles was thinking about Jenny for most of the drive back to his apartment (he’d wanted to drop a few things off at his house before going to get Jenny’s book back from Buffy). His resolve to put her out of his head had rapidly weakened when faced with her smile and her eyes, and he’d _known_ this would happen but he couldn’t find it in him to care all that much. Now he was entertaining utterly ridiculous fantasies in his head, ones that took place after she delivered this mysterious good news, where she was in his arms and they were professing their undying love for each other, and—

—and there was someone standing outside his apartment.

Giles couldn’t make out who the person was, save for her slender silhouette, but he had a faint sense of recognition and it wasn’t a good feeling. Getting out of the car, he was careful to make sure that he still had a cross in his pocket.

He stepped forward and then he knew.

“Watcher,” said Drusilla sweetly, turning so that she was facing him fully. Her eyes glinted, but not in the same way Jenny’s had. The puppy in her arms squirmed. “Miss Sunshine says you know a sneak thief.”

Giles wasn’t entirely sure what to say to this. It took him a moment to remember to pull out his cross. “Miss Sunshine may be mistaken,” he informed her as seriously as he could. Drusilla wasn’t to be trifled with.

“Are you missing anything of yours?” Drusilla asked almost politely. “I’m not hungry,” she added, nodding towards the cross. “I just need to know what she took. We can’t have the mean teacher ruining our happy family, can we, now?”

“I’m sorry?” Now Giles was thoroughly confused.

“You know her.” Drusilla shifted the puppy, petting it absently. “Her people took my Angel away the first time. She counts the days,” she added, her voice becoming a low, almost conspiratorial whisper. “My Angel said you _love_ her.”

“Jenny,” said Giles, barely a murmur.

Drusilla’s smile was wide and overjoyed. “I knew it was her!” she said, delighted. 

“What do you want with her?” Giles said as sharply as he could, trying to keep his voice loud and clear and not at all panicked. She was in the computer lab. She was alone, at night. Angelus could already be there. “What is she doing?”

Drusilla looked startled. “She wants to take my Angel away again,” she replied, as if she’d expected this to be common knowledge. “And she took something of yours. Didn’t she tell you?” She paused, looking Giles over, and clearly took in that he seemed more confused than anything. “No,” she said, sounding disappointed. “No, she wouldn’t have.”

Whatever Jenny had taken, it was very clearly something that the vampires weren’t pleased about. She was trying to do something good, and most likely stupidly reckless on top of that. He was feeling a terrifying mixture of pride, love, and panic. “Leave her out of this,” said Giles, and took a step forward, brandishing the cross. He hoped Drusilla couldn’t see his shaking hand. “Leave Jenny be.”

“Too late,” said Drusilla cheerfully. “Daddy left already. Just to check.” She turned her back on him and darted away, gracefully vanishing into a small patch of trees next to the nearby cemetery.

It took Giles a moment to process what had just happened, because the entire situation seemed so horrifyingly unreal. Jenny was in danger. Jenny was being targeted. Jenny would die alone and afraid if he didn’t do something.

He ran to his car.

* * *

 

Jenny’s free time that day, as well as most of that night, had mostly been spent tweaking and re-tweaking the program, since at this point it was _so_ close to being done that it was almost ridiculous. She had been debating whether or not to actually go and bring the Orb of Thesulah to school so as to perform the ritual late at night, but it had then occurred to her that that was extremely dangerous and she might do better to perform the actual ritual in the safety of her own home.

Of course, she had been thinking this as she worked on a computer program in a public building in the middle of the night, so she wasn’t quite sure if her concept of safety was exactly reasonable at the moment.

The bar on her screen was loading now, and she felt incredibly tense about it. She’d had moments like this before, where she’d thought she’d completely translated the curse, but then it had turned out that the program still needed tinkering. Even so, Jenny never stopped being nervous and hopeful every time she thought she might be done.

“Come on, come on,” she murmured, eyes fixed on the screen.

The bar finished loading.

And there it was.

Jenny almost couldn’t believe it. She’d done it. She’d actually pulled it off. These past few weeks had made things seem so incredibly impossible and unfixable, but she’d found the solution to everything. No—she’d _created_ a solution to everything. Everyone was going to be happy and she was going to make things right.

“That’s it,” she said quietly, and almost laughed with relief. As it was, it felt strange to be smiling like this. “It’s gonna work! This—” she pressed one last key, “—will work.”

She was feeling such a rush of giddy happiness now as she took the floppy disk and placed it carefully to the side. Buffy would be happy. Rupert would be happy. Her family would be happy. Her eyes went to the printer, watching the words, and then she saw someone who shouldn’t be there at all.

_Angel._

No, it was Angelus. Angelus, sitting in the back of her classroom.

Jenny gasped, jumping to her feet. “Angel,” she said, trying her best to keep her voice level and calm. The brief moment of happiness was gone, replaced by a slowly growing terror. “How did you get in here?” she asked, trying her best to stall for some time. She began to edge slowly towards the door.

“I was invited,” Angelus replied, sounding quite pleased with the entire situation. “The sign in front of the school...” He was smiling; it looked strange and off-putting on Angel’s usually-solemn face. He looked so confident. She’d been so _stupid._ “Formatia trans sicere educatorum,” he recited with an almost theatrical smugness in his voice.

“Enter all ye who seek knowledge,” Jenny translated. As long as they were talking, she was okay. She knew the stories, or at least the rumors; Angelus tended to monologue and sometimes that could be used to your advantage. Some people had managed to prolong their deaths for a good ten minutes just because of that.

Ten minutes gave time for someone to—but no. No one was coming. A sense of terrifying helplessness settled over Jenny as the realization sunk in; no one knew where she was, and no one really cared.

Angelus chuckled, stood up. “What can I say?” he said, grinning ever so widely. “I’m a knowledge seeker.” He began to walk towards her, still grinning, completely at ease.

“Angel, I-I’ve got good news,” Jenny persisted, casting around desperately for something to distract him.

“I heard.” Angelus hadn’t stopped moving towards her. “You did another one of your _covert_ _investigations_ , huh? Wow, Giles isn’t gonna be really pleased with that.” He paused contemplatively. “You know,” he said, “maybe you should start asking people before you try meddling with their things. For instance,” he stopped, looking down at the items laid out on the top of her desk, “my soul.”

Jenny edged slowly towards the door. And then, abruptly, Angelus’s smug smile dissolved.

“Where is it?” he demanded angrily, eyes flashing with fury as he looked up at her.

Jenny felt a cold wave of fear. The situation was very different when he wasn’t cool and collected. But somehow, somehow, she managed to keep standing straight instead of shrinking back against the wall. “Where is what?” she asked as calmly as she could manage. She was pretty sure her voice was shaking. Hell, _she_ was shaking.

“You know where it is, you—” Angelus took a few quicker steps forward and suddenly he’d slammed her hard against the wall and his hands were around her throat and she couldn’t _breathe oh god—_

“Don’t play games with me,” he was saying, voice sharp and furious. “Where is it? Where’s the Orb? Have you told someone already? Is that why it’s not here? _Tell me where the Orb is_!”

Jenny struggled against his hold, but his fingers were crushing her throat. She’d thought it had hurt when it was Angel’s hands choking the demon out of her, she’d thought it had hurt when it was Buffy’s hands throwing her against her desk, but it was nothing, _nothing,_ compared to this. There were spots swimming in front of her eyes and she kept on trying to step on his feet which was the _stupidest thing._

And then he let go, just enough for Jenny to breathe, but not enough for her to get free. “Listen,” he said, voice low and calm and smooth, but rage still in his eyes. “It’s not like they’re going to magically forgive you once you give me back my soul. You think that this’ll make anything better? No one trusts you anymore, and trust isn’t something you can just get back by bartering. Not to mention—” —his hands tightened briefly around her neck, as a reminder— “—that I’m just going to kill you anyway in a few seconds.”

Jenny was trying so hard to remember that he had a plan, that he was trying to get inside her head, that he was being manipulative and clever and playing off of her fears, but the words sounded so much truer than anything she’d heard in a very long time.

“Tell me where the orb is, Jenny. Come on.” Angelus’s thumb stroked her cheek and she was reminded, painfully, of Rupert. “Do something right in your life.”

Jenny stared at him. It took her a moment to realize that he was waiting for an answer, and another moment to get enough air into her lungs to give him one. “You can’t be serious,” she replied weakly. “You think I’m just going to give up?”

In response, Angelus smirked, and his face changed. “Don’t worry,” he said, and now his grin was all fang. “I wasn’t expecting you to.”

* * *

 

And then Giles came running in from the other, still-open door on the other side of the classroom, crossbow at the ready, and shot a bolt neatly into Angelus’s back. Angelus’s grip on Jenny faltered as he doubled over with a roar of pain, and she fell against the wall, gasping.

Giles felt a moment of relief before Angelus, still bent over, grabbed Jenny’s arm and jerked her roughly towards him. He heard Jenny cry out in pain and felt a mixture of panic and fury at the sound.

Straightening up, Angelus pulled Jenny in front of him, still in game face as he turned around. “Take your best shot, Watcher,” he said through gritted teeth.

Jenny looked at Giles for a moment, holding his gaze, and then she smiled almost exhaustedly. “You came for me,” she said, voice catching as though she might cry.

Giles wanted to comfort her very, very badly, but the situation was a bit too dire for him to adequately pull that off. “Not the best time to discuss this, I’m afraid,” he said shakily, eyes darting to Angelus.

“You’re right,” Jenny agreed. She looked up at Angelus as if she’d only just remembered he was there, and then she elbowed him hard in the stomach. Angelus let go with what seemed to be a combination of lingering pain from the crossbow and sheer surprise that Jenny would even try something like that, at which point Jenny rushed across the classroom into a stunned Giles’s arms.

She half-collapsed against him.

“We have to go,” Giles said urgently, even though he felt almost dizzy with worry at the sight of her, pale and shaking. Angelus made a move towards them, and Giles, responding with blind panic, shot him again with the crossbow. He fell back into Jenny’s desk, knocking her computer onto the floor.

Giles grabbed Jenny’s hand, dropping the crossbow, and ran.

She was stumbling, and still gasping for breath, but somehow she was just barely managing to keep pace with him. He gripped her hand tightly in his and reminded himself that she was alive right now, that he had gotten there in time, but they still weren’t out of the school and he couldn’t afford to let his guard down or try to make sure she was fully all right.

He hadn’t shut the school doors he’d come in from, and he pulled Jenny in that direction, both of them sprinting through before he kicked the doors shut behind him. Giles wasn’t even sure if Angelus had been able to chase them, what with the crossbow bolts, but he wasn’t willing to risk it.

Jenny was wheezing by this point, and he was fairly certain that she was near tears, but when he slowed their pace to a walk and looked over at her, she met his gaze with determination.

“Jenny—” he began.

“There’s so much that I have to tell you,” she said, her voice shaking and hoarse. “I’m not going to die without you knowing.”

Giles felt his heart catch in his chest. “Is that what kept you going?” he asked.

Jenny looked up at him and almost smiled, a hint of bitterness in her eyes. “Rupert,” she said. “You’re always what keeps me going.”

There was a moment of stunned silence during which Giles replayed her words in his head and tried to make sense of them, and then Jenny looked suddenly very nervous. “Oh god,” she said. “I mean—I didn’t—if that’s—” She took a breath. “That’s a lot to tell you right now. I am so sorry.”

Giles blinked, looked down at her. She was so small and she looked so hesitant and it didn’t look right on someone courageous enough to hold her own against the Scourge of Europe. Not because it wasn’t an admirable thing, to be hesitant; he just didn’t like seeing it on Jenny. “I—” he started.

The school doors burst open.

Jenny screamed, and her grip on Giles’s hand tightened, but she seemed frozen in place as Angelus ran up to them with the crossbow bolt still in his shoulder. Quick as a flash, Giles picked her up in his arms and ran the rest of the way to the car, barely managing to open the door and push her inside before Angelus was grabbing him by the collar. The car door shut as Giles was shoved up against it.

 _“Rupert!”_ Jenny shouted, and he heard her fumbling with the car door.

“Stay inside!” Giles warned her, trying to sound commanding but coming off more frightened than anything.

“You know, she’s really not worth all of this trouble,” Angelus informed him, sounding surprisingly blasé for someone with a crossbow bolt still protruding from his shoulder. “This wasn’t your fight.”

For an instant, Giles felt nothing but blind terror and a certainty that he was going to die. But then he thought of the way Jenny used to smile at him, the way her nose wrinkled when she giggled, the way she’d made him feel more warm and at home than he’d ever felt before.

Jenny, in the car, who would be in no state to defend herself if he died.

That was enough for him to find courage.

He grabbed the crossbow bolt in Angelus’s shoulder and pulled, hard. Angelus howled in pain and stumbled a few steps backward before falling to the ground.

“You made it my fight when you tried to kill the woman I love,” said Giles matter-of-factly, and yanked the car door open, pushing past Jenny into the driver’s seat. She slammed the car door shut after him and he shoved the keys into the ignition, flooring the gas.

* * *

 

They were two blocks away from the school and Jenny was still trying to breathe. She couldn’t get the image out of her mind; Rupert up against the car, her unable to do anything about it. She had been completely convinced for a few seconds that he would die and that she would have to watch, and even more terrifying than that was the fact that she wasn’t sure if she would have fought against Angel if Rupert had died.

Of course she wanted to live. She wasn’t one of those dramatic I-truly-cannot-live-without-him types. But the thought of Rupert dying in front of her had all but paralyzed her with fear **.**

“Are you all right?”

Jenny turned to look at Rupert, who was looking half at her and half at the road now. They were still traveling quite fast, but Sunnydale streets were thankfully pretty empty at night. She opened her mouth to try to respond, but didn’t know what to say.

Rupert hesitated, and then he took a hand off the steering wheel to interlace his fingers with hers. It wasn’t the same panicked way he’d grabbed at her hand when they were running for their lives; his thumb stroked her hand comfortingly.

Without a word, Jenny held their joined hands to her heart. Rupert drew in a soft breath that made her feel suddenly, bizarrely soothed, and she began to remember how to find air again. “Where are we going?” she asked finally. Her throat felt raw.

“I was thinking your apartment,” Rupert replied, and Jenny suddenly felt that comfort dissipate instantaneously. “Seeing as—”

“I can’t stay there alone,” Jenny blurted out. Rupert looked startled by this, and she _felt_ startled by being so direct, but she stumbled on. “I know I-I don’t have the right to ask you to stay with me, under the circumstances, but I just—I can’t—I—” She was shaking again. She wished she would stop.

“Jenny,” said Rupert gently. “My apartment isn’t safe for me. I’ve invited Angelus there before. I—I was actually rather hoping I’d be able to stay the night with you.”

Jenny blinked. “Oh,” she said. Then, because he was probably going to see it when he got inside, “I took your paperweight. B-but I was going to give it back.”

Rupert squeezed her hand. “I figured as such,” he said.

Under other circumstances, Jenny might have asked why and how he’d found out, but she felt too exhausted to inquire. She’d do it tomorrow, she decided. “Okay,” she said wearily, and leaned back into the car seat.

She might have dozed off, then, because suddenly they were pulling up to her house and Rupert was getting out of the car. Without his hand in hers, with him outside and her in the car, the panic returned, but then he was unlocking her door and unbuckling her seatbelt.

“You don’t have to—” Jenny began as he took her hand, gently helping her out of the car. Rupert ignored this, however, carefully shutting the car door behind her before leading her up to her house. Jenny followed, leaning a bit on him as they walked, and Rupert let go of one of her hands to slide an arm around her waist. Jenny felt warm and safe until they reached her front door, at which point she had to let go of him to find the emergency key under her welcome mat. Nothing seemed quite as safe or secure when he wasn’t touching her, reminding her that he was still there and not dead, and her fingers fumbled with picking up the key. She stood up again and unlocked the door, and then she looked up at him.

“You go in first,” she said. Rupert opened his mouth to protest, but she fixed him with the best attempt at her exasperated look that she could pull off at the moment. Whether or not she pulled it off was unclear, but he got the message and hurried in ahead of her.

Jenny followed him and shut the door behind her very fast, locking it even quicker. Then she turned back to Rupert. “You okay?” she asked him.

Rupert didn’t seem to register the question; he wasn’t looking her in the eye. It took Jenny a moment to realize that his eyes were fixed on her neck, and another moment to realize why that would be the case. “Oh,” she said, and her hand fluttered to her neck, but as her fingers grazed a sore spot she winced and let it fall.

Rupert swallowed hard and took a step forward. There was a strange look in his eyes, and when he spoke, his voice was tight with anger. “Jenny, what did he do to you?” he asked, sounding as though he was just barely restraining his fury.

It made Jenny’s stomach twist unpleasantly and she looked down, unable and unwilling to meet his eyes when they were this livid. “I—nothing much,” she said. “It’s fine. I’m going to sleep it off.”

Rupert was silent for a moment, and then, “I should have killed him while I had the chance.”

Jenny looked up, startled. “Don’t say that,” she said without as much vehemence as she should have.

“Why not?”

It occurred to Jenny that Rupert wasn’t angry at her at all. “Rupert, don’t worry about me,” she began dismissively.

“Then who will?” Rupert’s voice caught, and Jenny, stunned by his concern, forgot what she was going to say. His hand reached up and cupped her face, ever so mindful of the bruises beginning on her neck. Jenny leaned into his touch. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

He was looking at her like she was something precious, and Jenny wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Confused, definitely. Scared, a little. But there was also a beginning flutter of uncomplicated happiness that she hadn’t felt since her uncle had come into her classroom. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” she reminded him.

“Of course I don’t.” Rupert, oh god, Rupert was almost crying. “You always forgive me for it.” He drew in a shaking breath, but he didn’t seem to be able to calm himself. “And I’ve never done the same for you.”

“Hey.” Jenny reached up, framing his face with her hands. “Hey, England, look at me, okay?” He cast his eyes down. “ _Rupert,_ ” she said, and when he finally did look up, she told him, “I love you. That’s enough for me.”

Rupert’s eyes were wide now, and he didn’t seem to have any kind of response. Jenny hadn’t asked for one, or expected one, but she still felt a dull ache of disappointment and loneliness. Pushing that aside, she let her hands drop.

“I love you too,” said Rupert quietly.

And suddenly Jenny was forgetting how to breathe for a very different reason. She laughed, except it sounded more like a sob to her. “Oh,” she said. “Oh.”

Rupert smiled, a nervous fluttery flash of a smile that was barely there for an instant. “Yes,” he said, and he took her hands in his.

Rupert loved her. He _loved_ her. He was looking at her with soft eyes like he used to back a few months ago when nothing was complicated. “I didn’t screw it up too badly?” Jenny asked, and tried to laugh again, but it came out as another sob. Was she going to start crying? Hell.

“No,” Rupert said, “not at all.”

Jenny was crying now. She was really crying. Not the loud kind with heaving sobs, thank goodness, because she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to recover if she cried like that in front of Rupert, but there were tears pouring down her face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just—I’m so sorry.”

Rupert let go of one of her hands to briefly touch her cheek, and then he reached in his pocket to pull out a handkerchief and hand it to her.

It was just so adorable and so wonderfully _Rupert_ that Jenny actually laughed through her tears, taking the handkerchief. “Of course,” she said with a sniffly giggle, dabbing at her face. “I’d expect nothing less of a proper British gentleman.”

“Now I _hope_ that’s not a knock against my handkerchief, Ms. Calendar,” Rupert quipped, and Jenny suddenly felt a rush of warmth as he took the handkerchief from her to wipe away her tears. “Here,” he said.

“I love you,” said Jenny again, breathlessly, more because she couldn’t believe she was saying it to someone who loved her right back. Rupert’s hand paused on her face. “I—so much, I just—”

Rupert kissed her.

* * *

 

Giles was kissing her and he could barely believe it was real. He was kissing her, his arms around her waist, this woman that he loved, this woman that loved him back. It was a clumsy kiss, not one with what Jenny would call his usual finesse, but that was mostly because he was desperate to be as close to her as possible.

Jenny didn’t mind. She seemed to relate, actually. She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, pressing herself against him. Their noses bumped, and she pulled away slightly to look at him.

Giles leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, his hands moving up her back to tangle in her hair, and then she uttered a pained gasp as his fingers grazed her neck. He dropped his hands immediately.

“No, no, it’s fine!” Jenny said almost desperately. “It’s fine, just let me—” She leaned in again, but he reluctantly stepped away from her. At the flash of panic that crossed her face when they were no longer touching, he took her hand in both of his, bringing it up and kissing the knuckles.

“You’re hurt,” he said quietly.

“You could _never,_ ” Jenny objected. “It’s fine, Rupert, really, I’m good. Just a few bruises.” Her eyes flickered back to his mouth.

“Jenny,” Giles said, half tenderly, half exasperatedly.

“I _missed_ you,” Jenny persisted, and her other hand moved to cover both of his. “Just—can’t we have this? Fuss over me in the morning.”

Jenny’s hands were warm and soft, the fingers long and elegant. He’d forgotten how lovely they were. Every inch of her was lovely. She leaned forward to kiss him, this time a bit more slowly, giving him a chance to drop her hands and back away.

He didn’t.

* * *

 

They slept in that morning, and woke up holding each other in Jenny’s bed. Rupert made breakfast. Jenny told him about the Orb. “Better to ask forgiveness than permission,” he quipped, and didn’t understand why she started giggling.


End file.
